


all the right moves in all the right places

by hanekawa



Category: Johnny's Entertainment, KAT-TUN (Band), Kanjani8 (Band)
Genre: Crack, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-22
Updated: 2011-12-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 18:45:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/298870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanekawa/pseuds/hanekawa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times Jin’s emails broke Kame’s phone, and one time Kame broke Yamapi’s phone instead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all the right moves in all the right places

.

.

The first time Jin emails him after 6nin KAT-TUN becomes 5nin KAT-TUN, Kame throws his phone as if burned.

Because he is.

Burned, that is.

His hand, more specifically.

See, he’s standing by the kitchen counter, one hand holding a steaming coffee mug while the other tapping restlessly on the counter surface, happily waiting for his microwave to finish cooking his ready-made meal. Then the microwave _pings_ at the same time his phone chirps.

Of course, being a brilliant multitasker that he is, he lets go of his mug to open the microwave with his left hand, while his other hand gropes for the phone in his backpocket. He glances down at his phone. And then blinks. And blinks some more.

 _You’ve got a new mail from Akanishi Jin_ , his phone monitor displays.

It’s at that precise point he feels something hot _(ow!)_ scorched his finger, and he draws his hands back in surprise – resulting in him dropping his phone and his elbow knocking the mug over. And then in his haste to save the mug from crashing to the floor, his foot manages to step on the phone.

 _Ouch_.

There’s, definitely, the sound of glass cracking.

Double _ouch._

As he sucks his burned finger into his mouth (apparently he had accidentally reached for the metal burner of the microwave) he lifts his foot; and indeed, there lays his phone, in all its cracked screen glory, displaying the black screen of death.

Kame sighs. And then proceeds to devise a plan to buy a new phone, Jin’s email completely forgotten.

  
*

The first time Jin emails him in his new phone, Kame deletes his entire inbox.

Accidentally.

No, _really_.

In his defense, it _is_ a new phone, and he hasn’t got the hang of it yet. Not to mention also the fact that the default language setting is in English, and he keeps failing to change it because his English is _beyond_ rubbish.

How should he know that unlike his previous phone, in this phone the right button means ‘delete’ and not ‘open’?

Seriously.

This is Japan, so why the hell cell phones that being sold in Japan had English as their default, Kame had no idea. That doesn’t even make any sense.

…or maybe he should lay off of online catalogue and just buy it from a proper phone counter instead.

He sighs.

And then starts plotting a plan to bully Koki into accompanying him in getting a new phone.

*

The first time Jin emails him in his new store-bought, touchscreen capable cell phone (“you need to keep up with the newest technology,” Koki had said), the black screen of death is staring at him from the phone screen.

“WHY, DAMMIT, WHY?!” Kame shouts at his phone, clutching said phone tightly.

Koki, Nakamaru, Ueda and Junno stare at him.

“Bad news?” Nakamaru asks cautiously.

“More like _bad luck_.” he swings his phone hard. Several times. Maybe if he shook it hard enough, it would revive itself.

“What are you doing anyway?” Koki asks, bemused.

“What do you think?” he glares at Koki. It’s not Koki’s fault, he knows, but he’s had enough of this shit, seriously. Why is it every time Jin sends him an email, his phone immediately crashes? What, is Jin’s email cursed or something? He turns to Ueda. “Can emails even be cursed?”

“Well, actually—“ Ueda begins, but the smack of Nakamaru’s hand on his mouth stops him.

Ueda raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

Nakamaru’s eyes are very wide. “No ghost stories on work hours!”

Ueda’s eyebrow climbs higher.

Nakamaru squeaks and takes his hand back. “Did you just lick me?!”

Koki makes a face. “Seriously guys, no mating ritual on work hours, please.”

“Can I see it?” Junno, the voice of reason when it comes to technology, smiles sunnily at Kame.

Kame, the voice of reason when it comes to common sense (most of the time, anyway), hands him the phone gratefully. “Yes, please.”

He doesn’t know what exactly it is Junno’s doing, but a few minutes later, his phone comes back to life. He’s so glad he could kiss Junno, if only Junno wasn’t like, ten feet taller than him. Such is the unfairness of life.

“—like this,” Junno is saying cheerfully, “but since it seems you accidentally slide your finger here, you triggered the automatic setup function in the setting, and therefore lalala—“

Kame tunes him out, and immediately grows suspicious at the long technical explanation. He snatches the phone from Junno.

His phone is alive, yes. But instead of the interface, the blue screen of death of the kind one usually sees on a PC greets him.

“Junno?”

“Yes?”

“Is my phone in a coma?”

“Technically, your phone OS crashed since lalala I think it was because lalala the touchscreen lalala ---“

…Kame’s head hurts.

Without further ado, he grabs Junno’s arm and steers him to the direction of the elevator.

“Where are we going?” Junno asks, sounding excited in the only way someone who’s skipping work can.

“We,” Kame says, “are going shopping. And you’re going to recommend me a type of phone that would never crash because of any accidental mishaps on the user’s part.”

Seriously, all this accidental mishaps is getting ridiculous.

*

The next time he sees Jin’s name in an email on his brand new, waterproof, non-touchscreen phone, Kame is careful to hold his phone at arm’s length, out of any harm he may accidentally inflict upon it. And then he looks around, trying to find someone to help him open this email – none can say he never learns.

“Ohkura-kun,” Kame says imploringly to the first person who happens to wander into his line of sight, “would you be so kind as to help me read this email?” he asks, offering his phone oh so carefully.

Ohkura blinks. “Uhh…what?”

Yassu, who’s been standing behind Ohkura, raises an eyebrow.

Maruyama, who’s standing beside Yassu, immediately perks up. “Ohh~ what kind of game are we playing?”

Kame ignores them both. “No, seriously.” He addresses Ohkura, “All you need to do is open that email, and read out the content to me.”

Ohkura blinks again. “Right. Why?”

“The gods of cell phones hate me.” Kame announces sadly. “Therefore, I must employ your help in getting this particular email read.” He holds out the phone again to Ohkura, still with the same extreme care.

Ohkura, the kind soul that he is, takes the phone from Kame’s hand, looking faintly baffled. And then his eyes fall upon the sender’s name, and Kame knows a rise of the eyebrow, directed at him, is only to be expected.

“Please.” Kame adds.

Both Yassu and Maruyama look on with interest.

Ohkura looks at him for a few more seconds. Kame tries not to squirm. Or look too hopeful. But then Ohkura just shrugs and starts to fiddle with the buttons.

Kame stops breathing.

And then the smallest of smile appears on Ohkura lips as his eyes reflected the lights flickering on the phone screen, and he turns to Kame, lips parted--

“WATCHA DOING???”

As if in slow motion, Kame could only watch in horror as Yokoyama appears out of thin air, throws himself on Ohkura’s back, and shouts in Ohkura’s ear; he also could only watch as Ohkura, startled out of his wit, lets go of the phone; and then he also could do nothing but watch with growing horror, as the phone slips through Ohkura’s fingers, goes over the railings, and sails down the stairs flight.

The _fifth_ floor stair flight.

They all watch as the small phone crashes into the ground with a painfully tiny sound – made even more awful by the fact that it’s still audible even from _five floors up._

Silence.

“Whoops?” Yokoyama laughs nervously.

Kame screams.

It takes the combined effort of Maruyama, Yassu, and Ohkura to stop Kame from bodily flinging Yokoyama over the stairs railings in order to meet the same fate as his phone.

(Needless to say, Yokoyama spends the next few days screaming away in terror whenever he sees Kame – to the bemusement of the rest of Kanjani. Not that Kame notices, the bastard.)

*

The first time Jin’s name appears in Kame’s new, shiny and sleek phone, Yamapi smashes it with his fist.

Accidentally.

Sort of.

“Oh dear.” Kame says. And then calmly picks up a very sleek, very sharp, _very big_ knife from the coffee table.

“I swear it was an accident!” Yamapi cries, totally _not_ hiding behind the couch. “How should I know it was your phone I was hitting and not the remote control of the TV? Besides, why would a phone have that many buttons anyway? It doesn’t make sense, let me tell you!”

“It’s called QWERTY keypads, you _moron_. I can’t believe the rumors about you living under a rock were actually true.” Kame mutters, the knife glistening threateningly in his hand.

“Hey!” Yamapi protests, “You’re standing in the middle of _my living roo_ \--GYAA!“

The knife embedded itself into the wall by his head, barely an inch from grazing his cheek.

“I’m sorry, you were saying…?” Kame says calmly, a smile firmly in place. And then he proceeds to gather their forks and wields them like one would a set of very pointy, very sharp throwing objects.

Yamapi looks like he’s deeply regretting the fact that they had ordered spaghetti instead of old plain safe, safe pizza.

“I’m sorry! Look, it’s not like we can’t afford to buy a hundred phones just like it! Rea—“

A fork embedded itself into the wall by the other side of his head. How such a supposedly harmless cutlery could even do that, Yamapi really, really doesn’t wanna know.

“You know, I could swear I see your lips moving, but all I could hear is this strange buzzing sound, like an annoying insect. I wonder why?” and then he raises his hand, the remaining two forks held between his fingers gleaming menacingly.

“I’m soo sorrrryyyyy!!!” Yamapi squeaks – _manly_.

“Do you even have any idea how long I’ve been waiting for the email from Moron #1?” Kame says, stroking the tips of the forks slowly, fondly, and with such an intensity that it actually makes Yamapi look a little disturbed and weirdly turned on.

“Again, how should I know it was actually a phone? Remote controls these days come with a touchscreen panel! How should I know Bakanishi’s name on the screen means he’s trying to contact you and not actually a new TV program with his name on it?!” and then Yamapi pauses. “Wait, Moron #1 _is_ Bakanishi? Why _#1_? Does that mean there’s also #2, #3, and so on?”

A second fork suddenly stuck itself on the wall, a few centimeters lower than the first one, and just that much closer to Yamapi’s cheek.

Yamapi _totally_ doesn’t let out a whimper at that.

“My point is,” Kame continues, “I didn’t wait for Moron #1 to email me, just so you could smash my phone under the assumption it was a malfunctioned TV remote control when he finally did!” _You asshole_ isn’t said, but it’s clearly implied. “All these times, and not once did I manage to open any of his email. Nor glimpse the email address. Let alone read the content.” Kame sighs. And then smiles at Yamapi.

This time, the shiver running down Yamapi’s back is definitely justified.

“Do you have any last word?” Kame says brightly, the fork raised threateningly.

“Wait! Why don’t you just call him instead?!” Yamapi says before he could tell his brain to _shut up, brain, if you still wanna live._

A pause.

“Huh.” Kame says an eternity later, head tilted.

Yamapi blinks. “Wait, all this time, and it never actually occurred to you to just _call_ him?”

“Well.” Kame kicks at the floor, looking rather shifty.

“Seriously?” Yamapi says incredulously. “I mean, _seriously_?”

And then Kame strides purposefully to Yamapi, to which Yamapi barely manages to raise his arms to protect himself from the blow that’s gonna come before Kame lets his hand grab Yamapi’s face and—

Kisses him.

Huh.

Yamapi, being the ever loving person that he is, of course kisses Kame back.

“You know, all you need to do is ask.” Yamapi says when they part. “There’s no need to distract me in order to steal my phone.”

Kame raises an eyebrow, Yamapi’s phone already pressed into his ear. “What, are you complaining?”

Yamapi rolls his eyes. “Totally not the point, and you know it.”

The phone rings four times before somebody on the other line picks up. “Pi?” Jin’s voice says.

A pause.

“…right. This is totally Yamapi’s number, even if I’m not Yamapi. Especially because I’m _not_ Yamapi.” Kame frowns. “Wait, do you even still remember whose voice this is?”

In front of him, Yamapi, unashamedly listening in to the one-sided conversation, raises an eyebrow.

Kame ignores him.

“…Kame?”

“Great! So you still remember me! Not that that I’m implying you already forgot or anything just because you suddenly took off to America for the second time, of course. I mean, why America again anyway? Why not Europe? Or Russia, even? I mean, at least you could meet some sea lions if you went to Siberia but I’m totally getting off of topic here so I’m just going to shut up now.”

Yamapi’s biting his lower lip hard, and his eyes are crinkling weirdly. Either he’s about to cry, or he’s about to laugh his ass off.

Kame suspects the latter.

“Um, Kame, this might be a stupid question, but are you okay?” Jin asks, voice sounding weird. And then he pauses. “Is _Yamapi_ okay?”

“Why wouldn’t Yamapi be okay?” Kame says, a hint of a sulk in his voice. “I mean, it’s not like he’s gonna die just because I throw knives and other pointy objects at him.” And then he kicks Yamapi’s shin for good measure.

Kame’s rather impressed by the way Yamapi manages to curse amidst his laughters.

“…Kame.” Jin says, sounding torn between concerned and scandalized. “Why are you calling me?”

A short pause.

“That’s supposed to be my line, actually. I mean, you sent me, like, fifty emails or something, and I didn’t get to read any of them at all. That’s rather frustrating, let me tell you. Not to mention also the damage done to my phones. And my emotional state. So why don’t you tell me now what it is you’re trying to say to me in your emails? I mean, what kind of thing you had to say that you couldn’t say it directly in person anyway?”

Another pause.

It’s then Kame notices Yamapi has stopped laughing and instead looking at him curiously now.

“Um.” Jin says, voice small. “Now?”

“Wait, what? I couldn’t hear you.”

“I said I’m sorry!” Jin sounds as if the words are scratched out of his throat. Huh.

“Yeah, yeah okay. Now just tell me what it is you’ve written in your emails.”

Again, another pause.

Yamapi looks on, looking amused.

“Um.” Jin says. “Um, I did.”

Kame frowns. “What?”

“I said I’m sorry.” Jin’s voice’s sounding rushed and not a little awkward. “In the emails. For. You know. I mean. Um.”

It takes a while for Kame’s brain to catch up, and when it finally does, he could not stop the heat from climbing to his cheeks and taking residence there.

Yamapi raises an eyebrow.

“…Oh my God. This is so—“ _awkward._ “You know what? I think we should just keep to the emails. Yes. Instead of talking. Because clearly, the ways of emails are far superior. Than talking. Yes, that’s it. Bye!” Kame closes the connection before Jin could say another word.

His cheeks are still _burning_.

A few seconds later, Yamapi’s phone buzzes, Jin’s name on the _caller id_.

Kame throws it against the wall. Hard. And then proceeds to watch as it shatters into tiny little bits.

“Hey!” Yamapi protests. “That’s _my_ phone!”

“Oh my god kill me now.” Kame mutters from behind his hands, his face and the tips of his ears flaming.

“So that the rest of your bandmates could incinerate me instead?” Yamapi snorts. “Hell no.”

A minute later, Yamapi’s apartment’s phone rings.

They both stare at it.

And then they look at the shattered remains of Yamapi’s cell phone on the floor.

And then stare back at the ringing phone on the coffee table.

Kame frowns. “Do you think it’s…”

Yamapi purses his lips thoughfully. “Most probably.”

A pause.

The phone keeps ringing.

“Let me set it on fire.” Kame says, producing a lighter from his pocket.

“Whoa, whoa, watch it!” Yamapi snatches the lighter from Kame’s hand. “No more destroying of any phone in my immediate vicinity!”

Kame pouts at him.

“Lookie here, mister. You,” Yamapi points to Kame, “are going to take that phone,” he points to said phone, “and then you’re going to talk to Bakanishi, because that’s definitely him on the phone. Peacefully. While I,” he points to himself, “am going to make myself scarce. To the kitchen.” He points to said kitchen, “where I would pretend I couldn’t hear a thing you say to the phone. In the living room. Which is far enough from the kitchen. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” Kame says sulkily. “Or I could just stab it with this fork.” He stares at the lone fork still in his hand.

Yamapi snatches it away. “Go take that phone.” Yamapi says sternly. “You were the one who called him _first._ ”

“Fine.” Kame says, looking sullen. But he still goes to the phone.

*

True to his word, Yamapi makes himself scarce to the kitchen – where his parallel apartment phone awaiting.

Well, he never said he wouldn’t eavesdrop, after all.

Hmmph.

Like he would actually miss out on the real life drama of his coworkers.

.

.

.


End file.
